She had tried to slip in for five more minutes of peace before they had to prepare. But as she uncovered the vamp his blue eyes blazed at her.

"Boo," he said softly.

Buffy chuckled and shook her head. There goes that plan.

"How much time do we have?" he asked. She was hoping for a "good morning", but things were already too grim for that, she supposed.

"Sun just broke, hence your going under covers."

"Sheet over my head? Ain't dead yet."

Buffy frowned. "Don't say that please. Even when you're joking."

Spike smiled in apology and pushed her golden silky strands back. God, but she was beautiful. "After, then?"

Buffy laughed. "Yeah. After's fine. That's the special word. After."

Spike sat up and rubbed his hand through his curly messed up hair. "After it is."

He turned back to his Slayer. "We should eat something and," he realized his nudity. "Dress in something as well."

"Good thing you've got vampire sight in this dark basement," she quipped. "Hate for you to put on my thong underwear by mistake."

Spike shrugged. "You'd be surprised how well they fit, love. Nice and snug-like."

Buffy looked back at the vamp wryly. Kinkiness was nothing new to them. It's amazing how comfortable she was now with it. Maybe because she knew there was more behind it now.

More behind them.

"If wearing my underwear brings us good luck in this thing, you're welcome to my push-up, too."

Spike's tongue grazed his teeth. "Ooooh, Slayer. New games for us to play?"

Buffy winked at him and kissed him on the top of his head, mussing his bleached top. "After. For now let's eat."

Stealth and sure-footedness had its advantages, most of them experienced at night during patrol. Or for Spike in the way-back-when, on the hunt.

But Buffy and Spike never thought they'd have to use it getting into the kitchen. Or sneak past human booby traps made up of sprawled, snoring teenage girls and her oldest friends. She and Spike shared a bemused grin and tiptoed to their food-filled destination. But Buffy stopped to place a call to Robin to remind him to bring the bus for transport.

Spike, meanwhile, entered the kitchen and checked the cupboards. After scanning through sugar encrusted cavity inducers courtesy of General Mills he settled on something a bit healthier. He brought out the cereal and some milk. Then swiped a banana off the counter.

Settling in, he poured the cereal and milk. He began breaking off pieces of banana when Buffy strode in. Curious as to the kind of cereal Spike was eating she lifted the box and grinned widely. She set down the box of Wheaties and plopped down in a chair beside him.

Spike was about ready to feast when he paused and sheepishly pushed the bowl toward Buffy. Wordlessly insisting this wasn't up for debate, Buffy resignedly took the breakfast with a nod. Spike went to get some blood, but Buffy stopped him with a gentle touch on his arm. With a brief fond rub, she rose to retrieve some pig's blood and filled the mug. Putting it into the microwave, she hit the starter. And paced awhile around the kitchen, allowing the memories to flood back in. Her mom. Dawn. Xander and that stupid jar he couldn't open (neither could she.) That one Christmas dinner they had together. And, of course, the vampire she had subdued courtesy of wooden spoon with Angel standing slightly to the side.

The same vampire she was handing his heated up nectar to.

She took out the mug and served Spike his blood, an odd, incongruous combination with hot chocolate that Spike had managed to pull off as only he could. The secret according to him? Burba weed.

He nodded a quiet thanks and she resumed her place at his side thoughtfully eating her cereal while Spike drank his blood concoction. Both silent and comfortable. Letting their close proximity do the talking for them..

Spike sat the empty cup down and waited for Buffy to finish. She slurped down the milk and placed the bowl down on the table. Spike swiped his thumb along the corner of her mouth where some stray milk had wandered away from the meal that was journeying to her belly. Laughing slightly she lightly slapped his hand away. Then he gently rose and took her bowl, spoon, and his mug to put into the sink.

But Buffy's hand reached out for his arm and it wouldn't let go.

Spike set the dishes down and took her hand gently in his own, their fingers entwined and she wrapped his arm around her, his face sliding next to hers. Gently they rocked in hypnotic rhythm. One last calming motion before frantic chaos would descend on them. He whispered soft encouragements in her ear in breaths only she could understand, ending finally with "okay?"

She nodded, her face strangled in quiet fear. But she nodded and smiled sadly.

They kissed each other on the cheek and he left to prepare.

Buffy collected herself, swept her hands across her face vigorously, and forced herself to focus. She checked the kitchen clock.

It was time.